Dusk rose slow to hide the light,
and empty day of grace,
as night did trace in link of chain,
the dark, forgiven fence.
The recipe of time is held,
in ancient, whittled hands,
repeated through eternity;
God's constant will demands.
And such are life's essentials,
as each day births anew;
the operator honoured -
unseen, unheard, but true.
http://sundaywhirl.wordpress.com/2012/08/26/wordle-71/
dusk, link, trace, empty, essentials, rose, pencils, fence, chain, recipe, forgiven, operator
No comments:
Post a Comment